Running Amidst Injuries

I have been running for about 14 months now. Really it's pretty surprising that I haven't been injured before now. Last month, on my first ever 14 mile run, I injured something in my leg. My technical term is my "right here's". If you could see me in my office right now, I am running my hand up and down on the side of my leg, about half way down my calf to my ankle. Both legs were hurting, and I believe it was from the cold rainy conditions, probably not stretching well enough, and not getting good and warmed up before i started. So for two weeks I heated and iced, heated and iced, massaged, took it easy, rested, ordered my husband around various chores in the house, and I slowly got better. I still ran of course, but for only 10 instead of 18, and only 2 instead of 5.

Then came the Tulsa Run. From here on out to be renamed Foot Killer Run. I warmed up appropriately, having learned my lesson 3 weeks before. It was just 9 miles. I wasn't worried at all. But the problem: it was FA-REEZING. So i parked probably a good 8 blocks away from the starting line, purposefully, so I could get a good brisk walk/light jog on and get myself all good and ready. I was layered, I was sun blocked (freaky pale), and all was right in my little world. Except for one flaw: I have always been a selective email reader. When I read the email, I saw 5k start time of 8:30, and read it as 15k start time of 8:30. The 15k actually didn't start until 9. So for 30 minutes, I stood around with my friends, blowing on my hands, and letting my muscles get all stiff and cold.

The race was actually great. I had a fun time, ran it way faster than I was expecting (15 minutes faster to be exact) and I probably could have made better time if I wouldn’t have waited with my fellow running friends who didn't carry their own water with them. (for shame) Water stops are total clock time killers. However, somewhere around the 10k mark my left arch started to HURT. As any of you fellow runners know, it takes a lot of hurt for us to stop. Especially a measly 3 miles from the finish line. So I kept going. In fact, the last 2 miles of it was totally uphill, and I sped up through it and finished strong. Once I stopped though, it was some serious limping going on. Then my right arch started to hurt.

Four hours later, after being on my feet all day (we lead extremely busy and active lives) it literally felt like i had stress fractures down the center of both feet. I shouldered on of course, and had a full day Sunday, two church services and a Trunk or Treat after all need my full attention, and I was in some serious pain. I think this was about the time I started to take ibuprofen. I'm an extreme lightweight when it comes to any type of pain pill, and I try to take them sparingly. Regular Tylenol has been known to knock me out for hours.

I went to my doctor who I just love. She's my primary care physician, but also a half marathon runner, triathlete, and biker extraordinaire. We went over every step of Saturday and decided that my muscles were cold, and that I strained my Plantar tendon but that I don’t have full blown Plantar Fashywatever. She sent me to get specific inserts, new shoes, and instructed me on different stretches to help improve my flexibility. By the following Saturday (2 days ago) I felt right as rain. Which is good, since I had 20 miles that needed running.

The first ten miles, doped up on ibuprofen etc., were fantastic. I felt great, legs felt great, beautiful 50 degrees outside, slightly breezy, good company, fun stretches of Tulsa. Life was a happy place. BUT THEN, and of course there has to be a “but then”, or what’s the point of my ramblings?? But then.... my RIGHT arch this time started hurting. And let me tell you what it was H>U>R>T>I>N>G. I'm pretty sure that I should have quit. But there was NO. WAY. I have a marathon in TWO weeks. If I can't muck out 20 miles then How am I supposed to run 26????

So I kept going, kept running, and had to modify my gate. I would run somewhere around a quarter of a mile normally, and then a quarter of a mile favoring my right foot running mostly on the ball. I did this for seven miles. SEVEN. That’s a lot of pain to push through. I kept saying to myself that I couldn’t quit. I had to keep going. Otherwise, what will the last 17 weeks have been worth? Registration has been paid on that marathon. And I’m finishing it, even if I have to be on my hands and knees crawling my way across town. The last 3 miles, knowing it was just a measly three left, I suddenly felt that all was right in the world again. There were fairies and pixie dust and at least a dozen unicorns out there with me.

Surprisingly, I never hit a wall. I prayed heavily for healing, and I know God healed me, protected me, and kept me strong. I finished my 20. My time wasn’t the best, but it doesn’t matter. What I proved on Saturday was that I can run through pain. I can push through turmoil. I can conquer the miles. Now I’m officially on taper. And I will have to remind myself of that heavily, tonight in Zumba. I currently have a can of green beans under my desk at work, and I am rolling my arches back and forth over it. I’m walking slowly, but that’s only because I finished so strong.